


to cut away the reminders

by ottertrashpalace



Series: Shamless Stucky Fluff [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky needs a hug, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Literally so fluffy, M/M, Not CACW Compliant, Panic Attack, Post CAWS, Recovery, Shaving, Steve's Pov, TW: Blood, Teeny slice of angst, bed sharing, bucky gets a hug, pretty minor but I'll put that in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-06-09 20:38:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6922540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ottertrashpalace/pseuds/ottertrashpalace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve comes home from a mission one day to find that Bucky has tried, unsuccesfully, to shave his beard. A whole lot of fluffy shit follows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Red

Things were unsettlingly quiet for the first few month or so--too quiet for Steve, at least. They would get up in the morning around the same time, and he'd make Bucky some eggs, which he'd pick at them silently. Then Steve usually had to go to work, so he'd say "see ya" and hear a faint "bye" from the living room, where Bucky spent most of his time.

On weekends, he'd usually try to get Bucky to do something-- he'd read to him, turn on a movie, try to coax his old friend outside--but Bucky was always vehemently opposed to leaving the apartment. Not that Steve blamed him for the agoraphobia, but it was a little discouraging. Just a little.

Steve was starting to wonder if it had been selfish on his part to ask Bucky to stay with him, because it really didn't seem to be doing him much good. Sure, the hollowed sag of his cheeks had started to look a little healthier, but his eyes were still just as blank, just as worried.

It all changed one Tuesday night after Steve returned from a mission. Things had gone better than he'd expected, and they had been able to get all of the kidnapped victims out of a hostage situation without hurting anyone. Nights like these were when Steve actually enjoyed his job.

He entered the apartment silently, leaving his boots and shield next to the door and heading for the bathroom. It was a little past eleven at night, so he figured that Bucky was already asleep.

As Steve opened the bathroom door, the sight that greeted his eyes wasn't a pretty one.

Bucky was slumped with his back against the counter, blood covering his face and a razor clutched in his metal hand. He jumped when Steve opened the door, and started to get up. His hair blocked his eyes, but Steve could feel the panic coming off of him in waves.

"Bucky! Buck, it's okay, why don't you sit down, just breathe. Breathe with me, pal." With a slightly trembling hand, he reached up to brush the hair out of his friend's face.

Gradually, Bucky's breathing slowed to normalcy, and Steve, all too familiar with the effects of a panic attack, reached up to the sink and filled a cup of water. Bucky took it and drank about half.

"Hey there, ya feelin' better?" Steve murmured.

Bucky nodded. "Thanks. I'm sorry I..." He drifted off, and Steve just shook his head. 

"This isn't something you gotta apologize for, not ever." He let that sink in for a moment. "So, you wanna tell me what happened?" He asked as he opened a cabinet and got out antiseptic and cotton balls. "This'll sting a tiny bit."

Bucky hesitated. "I... I just wanted to shave. I don't like havin' this beard, it reminds me of... I just don't like it. So I wanted to shave it." Steve hummed and continued to clean the various cuts around Bucky's now very patchy scruff.

Bucky ran a nervous hand through his hair. "I was just, I started to shave, and _he_ came out. Started to, at least. But I wanted to get it off so bad, and..." He gestured to his face. Steve finished swabbing the worst of the cuts; the little ones were already starting to fade. "God damn it, Stevie, I just wanted to shave my own fuckin' face--!"

The razor that up until that point had been clutched in Bucky's right hand clattered to the floor, and he pitched forward a little bit, clutching his head in his hands. Steve wasn't quite sure what to do. His immediate instinct was to hold his friend as tightly as he could until the tears stopped, but he was terrified of making things worse. He settled for a compromise, and gently pried Bucky's hands away from his hair, holding them in his own.

"If you still want, I'll help you shave. Maybe tomorrow. I think it's getting a little late..."

"okay," Bucky said in a very small voice. He leaned in, and in a moment of pure trust, rested his head on Steve's shoulder. Automatically, Steve snaked his arms around Bucky's back, and held him there for the longest time. His knees were burning from pressing against the tile floor, but that was the least of his worries.

"Is this okay?" He whispered.

"Always," Bucky croaked, so softly that Steve wasn't sure he'd heard anything at all.

"Are you sure? We don't gotta do anything you don't wanna."  By way of response, Bucky put his arms around Steve, pulling him closer.

Eventually, the silence grew a little too long, and Steve's knees were a little to sore for him to ignore. Actually, as he took notice of it, he was aching all over. Right. In the light of recent events, he'd completely forgotten about work.

"Buck?" He started. Bucky shifted up and looked at him. "how's about we get you to bed?" Bucky looked at him blankly for a moment. "Oh. Okay." Steve slowly got to his feet. His back creaked audibly, and he could practically hear Natasha making a snarky comment about geriatrics.

Bucky stood up too, his brow furrowed like he was about to say something. Steve waited. "Could... could you come... with? We used to do that, didn't we?" He asked finally.

Steve felt a smile spread across his face. He remembered so many winter nights molded against Bucky's body, trying desperately to ward off pneumonia. Or the rainy night after his mother died, when they had held each other almost at literally for dear life.

"Yeah, Buck, we did. 'Course I'll come, if you like. Just gimme five minutes to change."

"Okay." Came Bucky's almost indiscernible reply, and as he slipped out of the bathroom, Steve could've sworn he saw relief on his face. Steve proceeded to take the quickest shower of his life, and threw on sweats and an undershirt. He usually slept in his boxers, but something told him that wasn't the best idea here.

He slipped into Bucky's room; the door was half open. Bucky was sitting on the bed, his face hidden in his hair.

Steve paused a few steps into the room. "Is this still okay?" He asked.

Bucky turned to look at him. His eyes were so tired that Steve just wanted to lie down next to him with their limbs all tangled until they fell asleep. Actually, he intended to do just that.

"Yeah," Bucky said, finally. Steve went around to the other side of the queen-sized guest bed and climbed in. A flood of unbidden memories hit him head on; the way the sheets smelled like Bucky took him right back to Brooklyn. He marveled at the way that warm, woody smell hadn't changed one bit since they were teenagers. Bucky got in beside him, his movements stiff.

"Do you want to--"

Bucky shook his head, and Steve was perfectly happy to keep his distance for now, if that's what Bucky wanted. He could see how spooning might get a little overwhelming.

"Just..." Bucky's flesh and blood hand found Steve's under the covers, and Steve felt him relax.

"Night, punk."

"Night, jerk."

Steve felt a smile quirk his lips again. Maybe things would get to be okay again.


	2. Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't planning on writing this, but I feel like it wasn't right to just leave the last chapter without adding the shaving scene! Regardless, here you go, enjoy

Three nights had passed since Bucky had tried to shave himself. The first one was all right, with nightmares waking Steve only once, but the second one was awful. Bucky woke up screaming around midnight, in full Winter Soldier mode, and it took Steve about two hours to bring him back. In the end, they were both completely exhausted and slept until about one in the afternoon.  Steve dozed on Bucky's floor until sometime mid-morning, when he stirred and thought to move to his own room. Later that day, as he stumbled into the bathroom to shower, he caught sight of the razor sitting unassumingly on the bathroom counter. Shaving Bucky, he decided, could wait. 

The third night was restless, as both men were still recovering from Bucky's episode. Steve didn't push anything that day, letting Bucky have his space. The apartment was quiet.

Finally, after that, they slept through the night. Over eggs that next morning, Steve decided to breach the subject.

"Hey, do you think you might wanna try shaving today?" He asked. Bucky seemed to consider the notion. "It's up to you, we could wait as long as you like. Or not at all. Just a thought."

"Sure," Bucky finally replied, setting down his fork. He rubbed his flesh hand thoughtfully on what was how nearly a beard covering his jawbone.

"Now?"

Bucky nodded. "Better to get it over with."

"Alright," said Steve, "I'll do the dishes, we can do it as soon as I'm done."

Bucky halfheartedly protested this division of labor, but Steve waved him off. If there was one thing that hasn't changed since they were kids in Brooklyn, it was that Bucky hated washing dishes.

After he'd put the last plate in the rack, Steve dried his hands and went to the bathroom. Bucky was sitting on the toilet, staring off into space.

"Buck?"

He startled slightly and turned to look at Steve. "Sorry, just thinkin'."

"You still sure you wanna do this?" Steve asked, his brows furrowed.

"Yeah, I'm sure." Bucky said. There was enough conviction in his voice to reassure Steve, who nodded and started getting supplies out. He spread the towel over Bucky's shoulder, and put the can of shaving cream on the counter.

"Alright, green if you're good to go, yellow if you want me to pause, red if you want me to stop. What's your color?"

They had used this system before, but Steve saw no harm in reiterating. He'd done some reading and was determined to let Bucky set whatever boundaries he wanted.

"Green," came the response.

Steve sprayed some shaving cream onto his fingers, and started rubbing it in. He quickly covered most of Bucky's jaw, making sure to get under his chin and nose. "Color?"

"Green"

Steve picked up the razor, keeping it where Bucky could see it. He'd chosen a disposable one, albeit a nice disposable one, reasoning that the similarity of a straight razor to a knife was one of the things that had triggered Bucky previously.

"Color?"

"Green."

Gently, he began to shave off the topmost section of the beard. Steve knew that this was going to take a good long while, but he found that he didn't really mind.

"Color?"

"... Yellow."

Steve stopped the razor and dropped his hand to his side. Bucky looked tense, uncomfortably so.

"Can you tell me where you are?" Steve asked quietly.

"Your apartment. Bathroom. Shaving my beard." Bucky sighed. He glanced around, and caught Steve's gaze. It always managed to knock Steve a little sideways, how much emotion could pour through those steel-blue eyes.

You could cut the silence with a knife.

"Tell me when you're ready to keep going."

Bucky's mouth set with determination. "Ready," he said. 

Steve lifted the razor and kept going.

"Color?"

"Green."

They got about halfway through before Bucky took another break, but aside from that, Steve continued his methodical strokes down Bucky's cheeks, wiping away the excess foam and hair as he went. The artist in him was aching at the face being uncovered beneath his hands; Bucky had always had a strong jawline, and that puckered chin.

Well, maybe it wasn't just his artist side.

Steve shook himself mentally at the thought. He had no need for that now, and neither did Bucky. They'd have to wait a lot longer before that was even close to becoming an option.

At long last, Steve cleaned the last of the shaving cream off of Bucky's neck, and gently wiped his face off one last time.

"All done," he said softly. "Wanna look?"

Bucky got to his feet hesitantly, and turned to look in the mirror.

Steve mover to pewe over his shoulder, feeling a little teary. It was like the old Bucky from Brooklyn was staking back at him, only with a few more wrinkles and sadder eyes. Bucky was staring at his face, stroking his cheek with a sort of surprised satisfaction.

"Thank you," he said.

"Any time, Buck. You're welcome." Steve murmured. He was too nervous on Bucky's behalf to reach for him, but he felt their fingers intertwine, and a small smile spread across his face.

"C'mon, I want to introduce you to Parks & Rec," he said, and gently pulled Bucky towards the living room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you got a toothache or something as that was probably the fluffiest of fluff.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! More updates to the series coming soon-- i probably won't write any smut, but I have a slew of recovery ideas I'd love to write. Suggestions are welcome.  
> Also kudos and comments feed my family and clear my skin so pls


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